The Game
by RMTNDEW
Summary: A short one-shot with my original character Jayden. She's playing a game, but what kind?


Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to X-Men or Marvel, unfortunately. I am but a mere fan of their awesomeness. This is just a short little story I thought of a few weeks ago and wrote up. If you're familiar with me, you probably know my Jayden series. This is one of her short stories. I just can't seem to leave the poor girl alone. I hope ya'll enjoy!

* * *

My name is Jayden. I see things.

Unfortunately for me, I can't see _through_ things. Because X-ray vision would be so much more helpful than clairvoyance right now.

I stalk the hallways, listening intently. My footsteps don't make a sound. A learned ability that came in handy far more than I ever imagined it would. I keep my pace slow and steady, my eyes searching for any sign of movement.

There are three of them. All are hiding. All are waiting to be found.

We've been at this game for hours. None of us tiring. None of us lacking behind. We all just keep going forward.

There have been very few words spoken during these hours. Just a couple of words traded when one of us stumbles upon the other before they assume our position and we take theirs. It's all a game.

And I'm winning.

My breath comes in evenly, and I take in the smells around me. There's no telltale sign. No stench of heavy cologne. No hint of toothpaste. Nothing. I've been walking this hallway for close to ten minutes, taking my time, and I've found no clues as to where my opponents are hiding. But that doesn't mean that I've lost them. That they've found a better hiding place than I can find. It simply means that I'm letting them sweat it out. Think I've gotten lazy or tired. I'm allowing them to let their guard down so that they can make a mistake and I can find them.

I'm the cat; they're the mouse.

I smile at that thought. I've often been compared to a cat. My movement is very catlike. The sway of my hips, the way I walk on the balls of my feet rather than the heel. I slink around corners, moving unseen, unheard. I've even been known to toy with my opponent, teasing them mercilessly like a cat would do to a poor injured mouse. Letting it run away, thinking it's free, only to pin its tail and reel it back in.

I was doing that right now; letting them all believe that they were free. That they could get away. But I was just playing with them. Playing the game.

I continue walking down the hallway. My mutation does little to help me at this point, but I know that the others are using their mutations to look out for me. To help them keep themselves hidden from me. A couple have the upper hand and that's fine with me. Because that means there's one who doesn't.

I'm going after him.

I round the corner and there it is; my telltale sign. It's the smell of water. It's thick and heavy in the air. Like someone's just ran a water hose. I smile to myself because I know that I've finally found what I've been looking for.

I walk carefully, slowly, down the new hallway. I make sure that I make no sound. No footsteps, no creaking floorboards, no heavy breathing. Because one false move, one small sound, would alert him and he would flee. I wasn't going to let that happen.

My heart beats with excitement. I've found one of my opponents and he has no idea that I'm so close to him. That I'm mere feet away, ready to discover him.

I sneak closer, moving towards the corner that I know he's hiding behind, and before he can know I'm there, I strike. I turn the corner so fast it takes him a few seconds to realize that it's actually me standing before him. Once realization sinks in, he turns to run. But I reach out my arm and grab his shoulder.

"Tag, you're It!" I shout before he can get away.

"That's not fair. You keep finding me. Why don't you find Rogue or Logan? They haven't been It yet," Bobby says.

"Because you're easier to find," I answer. "If you didn't smell like a swimming pool all the time, it wouldn't be so easy."

"I don't smell like a swimming pool. I don't use chlorine as cologne, you know?"

"Well maybe you should think about it; the stuff you wear could knock out an elephant, dude. Seriously, how much of it do you put on?"

"I don't wear that much," he protests.

"Stop your whinin', it's givin' me a headache," Logan says, appearing in the hallway. He has apparently heard me tag Bobby and decided to leave his hiding place. Rogue is right behind him.

"My _stomach_ is givin' me a headache," Rogue says. "I haven't eaten all day."

"Let's order something to eat then," Logan says, giving me a mischievous look.

"What?" I ask, knowing all to well that that look never means anything good.

"I don't know. Just thinkin' that since Summers is on a mission, that means he left his wallet here."

"And…?"

He shrugs. "Well maybe we should get lunch on him."

"You're going to steal his money?"

He begins walking past me in the hall. "Don't you think I got more scruples than that, kid?" he says, going towards Scott's room. "I'm gonna use his credit card."

* * *

Three weeks later –

"Jayden, do you know anything about this?" Scott asks, holding out a piece of paper.

"What is it?"

"My credit card bill."

"Well, generally when you buy something and use your credit card, they put it on a bill and send it to you," I say sarcastically with a smile.

He gives me a look. "Thanks, I know that," he says dryly. "I'm talking about this charge for five pizzas. Do you know anything about _that_?"

"No. Why would I?"

"Well they were ordered on a weekend when I wasn't here." He scratches his chin with his hand. "Did you notice if one of the kids went into my room?"

"You know, I was really busy that weekend. I don't know," I lie.

He stares at me for a moment. "Logan used it, didn't he?"

"Yeah."

"He's gone today, right?"

I nod. "Why?"

He smiles. "Just wondering how long it'll take him to notice if the gas tank on his motorcycle has sugar in it."

"Scott -" I start. But it's pointless. He's already walking from the living room, set on his path to the garage.

It's all just a game. And I guess Logan's It this time.

**The End.**


End file.
